The Invisible Boy
by Elizabeth Firebreath
Summary: Alfred had everything Matthew ever wanted. He was loved by his parents, praised and doted on, while they pretended Matthew didn't exist. Literally.
1. Chapter 1

**The Invisible Boy  
Chapter One**

Light shined through as the door to the bedroom nudged open. Alfred rolled over and groaned.  
"Five more minutes," he muttered into the hair of the sleeping figure next to him. His brother stirred, and Violet's eyes flitted open while blue ones stayed stubbornly closed.  
"Alfred, darling," coaxed a gentle voice.  
He heard his mother enter. Feeling her hand tangle into his hair, he buried his head in the sheets in protest.  
"It's time to get up. We have to get out before eight." She gently shook him.  
Alfred didn't bat an eyelash at her words, not feeling very in the mood to be punctual.  
"I made pancakes," she murmured in a sing-song voice, nudging his shoulder.  
Alfred opened his eyes, meeting the excited gaze of his older brother.

The truth was Alfred didn't like pancakes all that much. He was more of a lunch person, preferring a huge hamburger or a bowl of fried chicken. Matthew was the pancake lover.  
The sun had not yet risen, much to Alfred's disgust. He felt there was an unwritten rule of the universe that made it illegal to wake before dawn. It was just wrong.  
The table was set for three. Alfred's father was already sitting, silently sipping his coffee. He had poured a generous amount of syrup on his pile of pancakes. His mother sat down across from her husband. She daintily started cutting through a small stack in front of her. Usually, she never deviated from her strict diet, but on Sundays, she made an exception. She called it 'tricking her metabolism'. Alfred eyed the huge stack on his own plate and sighed contently. The day obviously had not started yet-it couldn't until the sun made it appearance. But he supposed the food was worth it, but only by the smallest margin.  
The three started chatting; Alfred and his father cracking jokes at each other, while his mother giggled and tried to maintain some semblance of control. The three were a family.  
Matthew approached quietly. There was a huge stack of leftover pancakes next to the stove. Whenever mother made dinner, there was always extra. When father did, he wasn't always so lucky. He knew he couldn't take them all, because Alfred always went for seconds. He looked over at his brother; he looked almost halfway finished. He also noticed the maple syrup was between his father and mother; out of reach.  
Pancakes really weren't the same without maple syrup.  
Alfred gulped down his milk at a blinding speed and shot up.  
"Where are you going?" asked his mother.  
"More milk," he managed to state through a mouthful of pancakes. He swiped up the maple syrup from the table. "And more pancakes," he added.  
Swallowing, he jogged up and tripped, spilling the syrup all over the table and pancake stack.  
"Aw, sorry!" Alfred exclaimed. "I'll clean this up."  
"Don't worry about it, sweetie. I'm sure it'll get taken care of," his mother assured.  
Matthew heard the command tinged in her words.  
Alfred forked a few pancakes over, leaving five leftover, deliciously soaked in maple syrup. Matthew grinned, grabbing the plate and hurrying up to his room to enjoy his breakfast. He would have to be quick in order to finish and get down and clean up the mess before they left.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow, not the nicest chapter, still on the short side, and mostly all angst. Next will be longer and probably more light hearted. **

**Moon-that-glows-at-night: thank you so much for reviewing! Unfortunately, Matthew doesn't catch a break this chapter. And I hope you like what happens next, though I can't say I particularly like it too much. (I am fond of a balance of fluff and angst)**

**SilverDawn1313: well I am really glad you enjoyed it. Three days is record time for me, usually it takes me a month to get another chapter in. I am writing this story differently, though, with less planning and the first draft on my phone so when I am just sitting around doing nothing (school) I can be doing something productive. So I think I will get them out quicker.**

Matthew scrubbed quickly while glancing at the clock. 7:48. They were supposed to have left three minutes ago, but Alfred seemed to have misplaced his shoes again.

"Really, Alfred, it seems like you are constantly misplacing them." Complained his father.

"Sorry, Dad! Dunno where they could have gotten to! I checked everywhere!"

"Well obviously not everywhere," teased his mother.

Syrup wasn't as fun to clean as it was to eat. The sticky goodness made it hard to scrub off of any surface, even tile and his arm was starting to hurt. Matthew glanced at the sneakers behind the couch, wondering whether his parents knew Alfred had hidden them the night before like he did almost evening.

Matthew was still worried. He wasn't even dressed yet and the floor still wasn't completely scrubbed, let alone mopped up. He wondered how long Alfred could keep up the act.

"Oh, here they are!" Matthew heard their mother exclaim. Apparently not very long. "Oh, what a silly place to put them." She stated." However did they get here?" Was that sarcasm he detected in her voice? Maybe they did know what was going on.

The floor was sufficiently soaped up. Matthew lurched toward the sink tearing off as many paper towels as he could grab. He threw them on the wet counter and scrubbed as fast as he could. In a matter of seconds, the moisture was wiped up and he tossed then into the trash can by the pantry.

Getting dressed was next on the list. Thank god he had the foresight to lay his clothes out. He scrambled into them in a rush, and took off down the stairs.

His parents were already in the car. Alfred was nowhere to be seen. Matthew hurried out the door.

If there had been a storm that night, Matthew would have known. Alfred hated thunder, and would have been in their parent's bed when the morning came. Still, it must have been windy because the patio chair had been blown over into the walkway. So distracted Matthew had been that he didn't even notice it until he had crashed into it.

He went sprawling on the ground. his arms shot out in front of him falling. There came a sharp pain where he was hit. He rolled over grimacing, and propped himself up on his right elbow, gingerly bringing his left arm to his face.

Blood, Matthew felt a bit woozy. He had never liked the sight of blood. He wouldn't even watch the violent R rated horror movies with Alfred because the sight of violence would make him nauseous. Then again, Alfred didn't really watch them either-just huddled with a pillow and pretended to his friends at school that he had sawn it all the way through.

Matthew was having trouble focusing, mind going off on tangents. A large gash on the inside of his arm starting from the bottom of his palm and went up a few inches toward his elbow.

_Get a grip,_ he tried to tell himself. Some part of his mind, still shaken from the fall, found the phrase amusing. He wasn't going to be doing much with his left arm, let alone getting a grip of anything.

He heard a door shut behind him and a few scuttling footsteps.

"Honey, what's the matter?" Asked a female voice Matthew recognized as his mother's.

Matthew couldn't help but marvel at how silly the question was, until he realized with a shock that his mother had spoken to him!

"N-nothing, I-I'm fine mom" said a voice behind him. The voice sort of sounded like his brother's…

Alfred, of course she had been talking to Alfred. He must have just come out of the house. Honey? That was Alfred. that had always been Alfred. It had been stupid of Matthew to actually think that his mother had spoken to him.

He watched as Alfred stepped passed him. His brother stopped a few meters in front of him, fingering his bomber jacket the way he always did when he was upset.

"Honey?" Said the annoyed voice of their father. Annoyed at Alfred, there was a first. Alfred sprung into motion, walking toward the car again.

Matthew knew he had to get up. Pain or no pain. Blood or no blood. His parents would leave without him and there was no way he was staying home while his brother went to a theme park without him, even if he wasn't as much of a coaster enthusiast.

Matthew hauled himself up and stumbled toward the car. If that car door shut, His parents would start the car and the three would speed away. Mathew would get there before the car door shut.

"Alfred, would you close the car door, hun?"

"In a second," procrastinated Alfred.

No way, no way in hell was Matthew going to let his brother shut that door. No way.

"Here, I'll do it," grumbled their father.

"No, its fine!" cried Alfred. "I'll get it in a second!"

Mathew was almost there. His father reached back to grab the handle but in his awkward position, he was no match for his son's determination. Mathew's bad arm shot out when he saw what was happening and yanked the door handle out of his father's hand.

A white hot jolt of pain shot up his arm and he collapsed into the car seat with a gasp. He quickly shut the door and strapped himself in. The twist of his hand shoving the buckle in made the boy whimper.

"What's that annoying sound?" Muttered his mother.

Matthew shut up.


	3. Chapter 3

The cut wasn't really bleeding anymore. It was long but shallow, and the pain was bearable as long as he didn't make any sudden movements.

The four had been in the car for about fifteen minutes, and they still had two hours to go. Matthew and his family lived on the outskirts of D.C, making the drive to Hersey long, but not ridiculous.

Matthew stared at the laceration on his arm, stomach rolling. He knew he had to do something about it. The smeared blood was too obvious for him to just walk around the park like nothing had happened. But what could he do? He had not brought an extra change of clothes, and unlike his brother's aviator jacket, he didn't have anything extra to take off. There weren't any towels lying around, and unless Matthew wanted to wipe his arm on the back of the seat, there weren't any options.

Alfred started complaining. "It's kinda hot in here," exclaimed his brother.

"Do you want us to turn the air conditioning on?" his mother asked. She didn't turn from the wheel.

"Nah." Alfred answered, shrugging off his jacket. Matthew was surprised; Alfred always wore his jacket. Even if it was a hundred degrees outside. If Alfred could've worn it in the shower, Matthew was sure he would.

He tossed his jacket to the side, and it landed in Matthew's lap.

_Am I a coat rack now?_ Matthew thought, then blinked in surprise. How could he be thinking such mean things? He was sure Alfred hadn't meant it like that. Just being thoughtless like usual.

Alfred caught his eye. He kept moving them back and forth, back and forth, as if trying to emphasize something. Matthew was at a loss of what he meant. Alfred gave him an exasperated look. He glared down pointedly at the jacket then touched his forearm lightly.

Did he want him to use his bomber jacket, _his favorite jacket_, to stop the bleeding? Matthew felt a sudden wave of guilt remembering what he had thought earlier.

Matthew took the jacket in his hand, then glanced at his brother looking for reassurance. He realized that he wasn't going to receive any, when he heard Alfred excitedly begin talking about the rides he wanted to go on to their parents. Matthew took a deep breath and used the inside of the jacket to blot at the dried blood. He hissed at the rough contact then paused, glancing up at his parents to see if they would react.

It wasn't helping very much. Matthew hesitated for a moment then stretched out to grab a water bottle in the cup holder in front of them and poured a bit on the left sleeve.

He was dismayed at how much blood came off onto the jacket. The cut looked better, though he at least hoped no one would try to rush him off to the hospital while they were walking around the park.

Matthew sat in silence, staring out the window, bomber jacket still draped over his lap. His parents and brother chatted or listened to the radio, simply sitting companionably. Didn't matter to Matthew, wasn't like he was a part of it.

Wow, the pain really was making him bitter.

"Could we stop?" Alfred asked, "I need to go to the bathroom."

"Can you wait, son?" asked their father, "We only have forty five minutes till we get there."

"Not really," admitted his brother, squirming in his seat.

Now that he thought about it, Matthew kind of needed to use the restroom too. He had been in such a hurry to get out of the house, he had forgotten to empty his bladder.

"Alright, we'll pull off that the next exit," his mother said, switching to the left lane.

They drove off the highway and emerged on a small two lane road. Fast food restaurants and gas stations lined either side of the road for a few hundred meters, then nothing but grass and fields stretching on as far as the eye could see.

Matthew pressed his face to the window. Living on the outskirts of D.C, he didn't get to see much untamed and undeveloped land. His brother might be too busy complaining at the lack of amenities. But Matthew was rather enjoying the simple rural beauty.

They pulled into a McDonald's, and Alfred jumped out of the car. Matthew, careful of his injured arm, gingerly unhooked his seatbelt. His parents were already out of the car, he hadn't noticed them leaving. Matthew reached for the door handle.

It was locked.

Fear rose in Matthew's gut, he yanked at the door handle with his good hand.

The door didn't budge.

His family was walking away. They disappeared into the store.

The car was utterly silent. The only thing to be heard was his own panicked breaths shattering the quiet. He could feel the interior of the car closing in on him. He wanted to bang on the windows, push on the door, or even scream at the top of his lungs. If he made enough noise, someone would come. Someone would notice him.

Right?

Maybe?

He felt tears streaming down his face. Shaking uncontrollably he tried to calm himself down by deep breaths.

In and out.

Swallow.

And again in and out.

There had to be a way to unlock the car from the inside. He just had to find it and escape into the restaurant. There had to be people there, right? He didn't need to talk to them, just sit in the corner unnoticed. Yes, this could work.

He crawled into the front seat and fumbled around for a button that would free him from this prison. Still trembling, he bit his lip nervously and unsuccessfully scanned the dashboard for a lock button.

Nothing.

He heard the distinct voice of his brother. He looked out the window and there was Alfred and his parents coming towards him.

He immediately relaxed. Settling back into his seat, he grabbed Alfred's bomber jacket and wiped his eyes.

His family filed into the car. They pulled out of the parking lot and merged back onto the highway. All was back to the way it was.

Before, Matthew had been to be panicked to think clearly. Now that the car was full, he was able to regain his senses. And with that, came questions. He couldn't help but wonder why his parents had locked him in.

Accident? Matthew doubted it. It's not that his parents actually forgot about Matthew, it was just that they chose not to recognize his existence.

That's what he had to believe.

So, no, not an accident. They had locked him in on purpose, despite knowing Matthew could not handle being alone.

Why?

Matthew was never acknowledged by his parents, and he was expected not to seek their attention or in any way make his presence obvious. This meant he didn't talk to his parents, he didn't move, or leave anything around the house, unless specifically ordered to in indirect comments. In a nutshell, his existence could in no way infringe or affect his parents' lives.

Failure to fade into nothing, resulted in punishment. Even without acknowledging him, there were a lot of things his parents could do to express their displeasure. Not leaving out food, leaving him, throwing out his meager belongings. They could get very creative when they needed to.

One of their favorite punishments was to trap him places. Whether this was outside the house, in the bathroom, or the car, like they had today. They knew he couldn't stand being alone, and exploited his weakness to teach him to behave. Locking him in the car was a common punishment.

That begged the question of what he done to deserve discipline.

He wracked his brain, breakfast had been fine. He ate the left over pancakes they had set out for him, and it didn't break any of their rules for Alfred to spill syrup. Had he not cleaned the counter top to their satisfaction? No, he was sure he had done a good job on that.

Then there was the whole car fiasco.

He gasped quietly, realizing what he had done. When he had been getting into the car, his father had been closing the door, and Matthew had ripped it out of his hand.

Horror filled him.

That was much worse than when Matthew had screamed at his parents to talk to him when he was six. And then his parents had thrown out the stuffed polar bear he had slept with ever since Alfred rejected it at three weeks old. He had cried for weeks.

He had actually physically defied his father.

He would be punished severely for this; he had no doubt about that. Going to a theme park, there were so many possibilities. What if they finally decided Matthew wasn't worth it? Abandoning him, and returning with his brother only. Finally having the little family they had always wanted.

And he would be all alone.

He felt sick, like he was going to throw up. He would have to be extra careful today.

The rest if the ride was tense, or maybe it was just Matthew. Alfred for one, did not seem affected. Matthew looked over and saw he was playing on their father's phone. His brother must have asked for it sometime while he'd had been absorbed in his thoughts. His parents were chatting amiably, but Matthew knew that was hardly an indicator of their mood. When it came to himself, Mathew could never tell.

Suddenly, the car shifted to the right. He looked out the window, realizing they had arrived.

A man in an orange vest directed them toward a parking spot. They pulled into it, and Alfred jumped out excitedly, grabbing his jacket. Their mother, armed with 50 SPF sunscreen, sprayed the boy and his father before they rubbed it in, and Alfred slung off his jacket. Matthew, who was fairer and more easily burned than either his brother or father, had forgotten to put on sunscreen before they left. The early August sun would not be kind to him today, he realized, glancing up at the cloudless sky.

They passed the famous Chocolate World on their way to the ticket booth. Alfred practically begged their parents to let him buy something, and they agreed that just before they left the park, they would purchase a few bags of candy for him.

They hadn't bought their tickets in advance, so the three of them filed into the line. Matthew let himself drift backward. He knew they wouldn't be buying a ticket for himself, so he would need to find another way in.

He skirted the line that led into the park. He had two options; he could go through the regular way, and act as if nothing was wrong. If someone stopped him, which was more than likely, he could make something up. Usually it worked, but there was no guarantee. It really depended on who found him. Or, he could take a roundabout war somewhere through the woods or something, and sneak into the park. If he was caught, though, there wasn't much he could say.

He saw a group of what looked like ten children, headed by one adult, who didn't seem very vigilant over her charges. A brown haired girl held a frying pan aloft, swinging it menacingly at an albino kid and his blond friend. Where had she gotten a frying pan? A red headed boy was throwing what looked like tomatoes at another slightly older Spanish boy, with a smile too wide for his face. There were a few others beside. Two blond kids that looked like brother and sister, and two dark skinned boys who were talking amongst themselves. There were a few other kids toward the front that actually looked like they were doing what they were supposed to. Complete bedlam. With Matthews's innate blandness and mediocrity, he should have no problem blending in with throng of children while sneaking through.

That was the plan, anyway.

Matthew quickly stepped in behind the kids, and no one seemed to notice him.

Well, no one but the white haired kid. As soon as he stepped up behind the blond girl. Burgundy eyes turned towards him. An almost nonexistent eyebrow rose, and an insolent smile materialized on his face. Matthew was sure at that moment that his plan had gone awry.

"Birdy!" He shouted racing toward him. Everyone turned in his direction.

But none of them actually looked at him. Even the blond girl right in front of him was standing on her tiptoes to see over his head.

"Where?" shouted an excited voice.

"Shut up, bastard." grumbled another.

"Awww, I want to see how cute it is," squealed the girl in front him.

"I wonder if we can sell it," pondered the large blond boy.

"You are so immature!" shouted an angry female voice.

"Oh ho ho, I wonder if we can use it to peep in girls in the locker room."

"And how the hell would that help you at all? The fucking bird would see not you!" Matthew winced at the use of such strong language.

Despite the commotion, the albino seemed to be the only one who had spotted the mysterious bird. He hurried pasted Matthew and pranced around the nearby area like a mad person, chasing a bird only he could see. The other children quickly lost interest and went back to fighting amongst themselves.

Matthew watched the boy, who looked about his age, giggle in excitement and hop around.

Abruptly the boy looked up and met Matthews's eyes.

The contact made him shiver.

He never been looked at by his parents, much less in the eye. Alfred usually gave him a millisecond glance, nothing more.

It was disconcerting.

The boy motioned for Matthew to come over, so he hesitantly approached.

He was only ten feet away to begin with, but Matthew took his time. About when he had crossed half the distance, the other boy seemed to grow impatient. Sighing dramatically, he took the final few steps and grabbed his arm.

"So, you want to sneak into the theme park, hmm? Well, let me assure you, you're talking to the right Prussian."

Matthew glanced over in shock. Had he been that obvious? Then he paused, wondering what a Prussian was.

"I see by your confused face, that you are wondering how I figured out your master plan? Hm?" he seemed to be waiting for an answer.

"Uh, I was-um-" the boy looked expectantly at Matthew, and he swallowed. "Well, actually it was—uh—wondering, well-this may sound silly but-" The boy looked at an imaginary watch on his wrist, Matthew quickly swallowed and went on. "But I don't really know what a Prussian is."

The boy slowly turned his gaze up from his imaginary watch, with a look of dismay on his face.

"What are they teaching in schools these days?" the boy shook his head in disgust. "That's why I watch anime. Only place you learn anything." He emphasized it with a shake of his fist.

Matthew wanted to say something else, but he let it go. The guy seemed a little off. And besides, and he knew Matthew was trying to sneak in. Who knew what he would do with that information, if Matthew did not cooperate.

"Well, anyway, you're kinda obvious." The albino continued, confirming Matthew's suspicions. "Walking around all wide eyed and alone, just trying to slip behind us. What? Do you think you are invisible?"

Mathew didn't answer.

The boy regarded him for a moment, Matthew's hopes of getting into the park were quickly dwindling. He resigned himself to stealing a few bags of candy, and spending the day sitting next to the car in the blazing hot sun.

"Well, out of the goodness of my heart, and because I am so amazing, I've decided to help you."

Matthew looked up in shock, the boy was grinning.

He seemed to be waiting for something again. Yet again, though, Matthew had no idea what to say. This was beginning to be a pattern.

"Now I understand," he said, "You don't seem to be very familiar with delicate social cues." he said gently, before continuing on boastfully. "But this is the part where you started praising the awesome Gilbert."

Matthew stared at him silently, blinking.

"Alright then." He said patting him on the shoulder. His face then morphed into one of extreme malevolence. "Now that you are under the guidance of the awesome me, nothing can go wrong!"

Matthew was really starting to worry.


End file.
